Student Teacher
by Simon920
Summary: A new teacher notices Dick.
1. Chapter 1

Student Teacher

Title: Student Teacher

Author: Simon

Characters: Dick and OC (so far)

Rating: PG

Summary: A new teacher notices Dick

Warnings: none

Disclaimers: These guys aren't mine, they don't belong to me, worst luck, so don't bother me.

Archive: Fine, but if you want it, please ask first.

Feedback: Hell, yes.

**Student Teacher**

It was the usual first day of school at Brixton Prep; the kids were a combination of wound up, apprehensive about the new teachers and classes and annoyed about summer vacation being over. There was too much foot shuffling, too much fumbling around in backpacks for pens and notebooks and too much talking. Stragglers wandered into the classrooms late as they found their bearings, announcements over the intercom were either unheard or ignored and the bells weren't working right. On top of that the area was caught in a late summer heat wave and the classrooms were over ninety degrees, with the windows open and not enough fans to go around because the AC was out again.

"Sit down, please. Everyone take their seats." She was a new teacher, maybe twenty-four or so, young and pretty with a good figure, natural blonde hair and good clothes; the kind every school seems to have one of. You know the kind—young, pretty and a total bitch, the kind who never smile. "Sit _down_."

The students, maybe eighteen or twenty fifteen and sixteen year olds in shorts and tees or skimpy tops and short skirts, took another minute to settle then sat there, looking her over while they waited for her to start.

"This is US History 1. If you're supposed to be somewhere else, please go there now (no one moved). My name is Miss Posner. Not Carolyn. Not Mrs. Posner. Not Ms Posner; _Miss_ Posner. I expect you to be here and in your seats when the bell rings, if you have a legitimate reason to be late or excused early, I expect you have a note to that effect. You will sit in the seats I assign you to and you will keep these seats all year. Your assignments—homework, papers, projects, will be assigned in plenty of time for you to have them completed so you may assume that every day something is late will cost you a full grade. Miss more than two homework assignments for a marking period and your grade drops a full letter. I expect everything to be handed in typed and spel-checked. I do not accept hand written work other than in class tests. You are responsible for your books being covered and kept in good condition. If you have something to add to a discussion, you will exercise the courtesy of raising your hand and waiting to be acknowledged. Are there any questions?"

She delivered the speech without seeming to pause for breath, crack a smile or avert her eyes from student after student. It was impressive in its way. There were no questions.

"Good. Now, one row at a time, beginning with the row closest to the windows, please come up to my desk and sign out your textbook."

A tall jock looking boy on the opposite side of the room stood up. "You want us to go first?" He was a smart-ass.

"Sit down."

"But I _need_ a book, _Miss_ Posner."

"Name?"

"Mine?" There were a couple of titters from the class. She tried to stare him down but failed. "Pete Weston."

"Sit down Mr. Weston, wait your turn."

"But, _Miss_ Posner, I need a book." He was smirking and laughing at her and she hated him now and for the rest of the year and for all time.

"Sit down."

He walked up to the desk, picked up a book from the pile and started to sign his name on the list next to the book's number. She took the book out of his hand and replaced it back on the pile. "Report to the Vice Principal."

"But I was just getting a book. Honest. 'Like you wanted, _Miss_ Posner. I want to get started on it—I hear chapter one's killer!"

She was about to order him out again when another kid, a dark haired boy in the second row spoke, the tone of his voice demanding he be listened to. "Knock it off, Pete and sit down."

"Fuck off."

"Sit down and stop being an ass."

To everyone's surprise, Pete reluctantly and almost meekly did as he was told by his classmate. It had to be the authority in his voice and his attitude—no nonsense and unimpressed by the class joker. The dark haired boy just sat there mildly studying her, waiting for her to get on with things. She found his stare a little disconcerting and made an effort to ignore him as she got on with the business of starting the year's work. The other students exchanged looks with friends as Pete backed down. This was going to be a long year if they didn't get this one to lighten up. Of course there was always the possibility of more entertainment between Pete and Grayson to look forward to.

Without acknowledging her helper and with her cheeks red, Caroline handed out the books without any further incident but made a mental note of the name of the dark haired kid on her seating chart; she'd look him up later.

The truth was that behind her demeanor, Carolyn Posner was terrified. This was her first job and she knew she was lucky to get it. She'd just gotten her teaching certificate a few months ago, had applied to three dozen school districts and been turned down by almost all of them. All right, even she had to admit that she was a little picky but she wasn't about to go to some dirt poor podunk school in the deep south or some disgusting inner city. The suburbs were okay, but she'd have to find some apartment or something or commute and that was a pain so when Brixton offered her a place close enough to her friend Emily's place that she could rent the spare bedroom, she jumped at it. It was a private school in a rich town which meant spoiled rich kids and interfering pain in the ass parents, but it also mean a clean workplace offset by lower pay than a public system. Luckily she could make due as long as Mom and Dad kept sending her five hundred or a thousand a month to supplement her ridiculous paycheck. Come to think of it, she'd ask for the full thousand; shouldn't be a problem and it would make life a lot more pleasant.

"Don't let the kids know they've got you rattled—they smell fear." The ancient math teacher gently squeezed her arm in the teacher's lounge after the fourth class period. "You'll be fine, dear."

Carolyn smiled her thanks, as she wished the old biddie would mind her own business. "Oh, they're not that bad. I think we'll all just get along fine; we just have to get to know one another."

The other teacher gave her a mild look as the new young thing turned to her lesson plan and her seating charts—she'd learn soon enough.

The bell rang for her next class too soon but she took a few minutes at the end of the day to stop in at the office to look up the dark haired kid, the one with the very blue eyes who was dressed better than the rest. Oh, it wasn't obvious and he was wearing the same kind of things the other kids all wore, but somehow they just looked better on him, as if someone had put them together for him, made sure they were cleaned and pressed (pressed?). He came from money, that was apparent but even in a place like Brixton where millionaires were a dime a dozen, he had that extra polish.

Richard John Grayson; that was the name in her register. Grayson—didn't ring any bells, but then there were lots and lots of rich lawyers or doctors or brokers she wouldn't have heard of. Grayson; she'd make a point of finding out about his family.

Reading his file she found he was honor roll, which wasn't a surprise and he lived with a guardian instead if parents so there was some kind of story there. She checked the parental contact info line on Richard's enrollment form. Parent or Guardian: Bruce Wayne. Address: 1 Brixton Lane. Emergency contact: Alfred Pennyworth, whoever he was. No matter, some flunky, probably.

Bruce Wayne? Of course; he was the orphan Wayne took in a few years ago that garnered all that publicity and she was probably one of the very few people who didn't believe the rumors about the two of them living together in that huge place up on the hill. Carolyn's old neighbor, Heather Dixon had dated Wayne a few years ago and claimed that if the guy was gay or bi, he was the best damn actor on the planet and she had the first hand knowledge to back it up.

But back to the kid—smart, good looking, serious, major money behind him and clearly not one of the troublemakers in the class; at least not yet. He could be interesting.

The rest of the week was a breaking in period for everyone. The older students and the teachers who's been there for a few years settled in easily with the newcomers following soon enough. Carolyn quickly got a reputation as a hard-assed teacher who would send you to detention as soon as look at you and heaven forfend if you had to take a trip to the bath room or something. She was equally disliked by both students and her co-workers who found her stuck up, arrogant and unfriendly in a faculty which prided itself on its professional but easy going nature. She tended to stay by herself, eating her lunch at her desk in the history office and declined to sponsor any of the school clubs or activities, something that was—as the principal pointed out—part of her job. She shrugged and suggested that she might be willing to look after the chess club so long as it didn't let its weekly meetings run past four PM. When she tried to enforce this during the first meeting she attended she hit a wall of indignation from the club members.

"But we're only half through the game."

"Save it till next week then."

"That's stupid."

She gave the complainer a hard look. "Tough." That was her last week as advisor to the chess club after the principal fielded the angry phone calls from three irate patents the next day.

Carolyn was learning to hate her job, covering her dislike with a veneer of distain.

She found herself looking forward to third period History 1, the one Grayson was in, though she'd found everyone called him 'Dick'. Fine, that was just fine. He was the standout student in the class, in the entire history program, in fact and he seemed to do it without effort. His homework was always in on time, always well done, His tests were always A's. He was never late, she'd never caught him unprepared for an answer when she called on him and when there was an open discussion about something he could be counted on to have original insights and interesting observations. Somehow he managed this without annoying the other students and without seeming to be conceited or superior.

He shone.

He was also a beauty, well built under his clothing, unfailing polite and had a killer smile and charm.

* * *

About a month after school started Carolyn went out with one of Heather's brothers. The meal was inedible, the movie—to be generous—sucked and the man was repulsive, assuming that the evening would end with the two of them in bed. Claiming a sick headache and not caring if the jerk believed her or not, she left him standing on the door step, door closed and locked in his face, outside light switched off before he could get his car out of the driveway.

That night was the first she woke embarrassed to realize that she'd been dreaming about a sixteen-year-old student.

TBC

5


	2. Chapter 2

**Student Teacher**

**Part Two**

So, there it was. Carolyn admitted it; the Grayson kid was taking up a lot more of her thoughts than anyone would consider healthy, especially when you added in the fact that he was fifteen or sixteen and she was a teacher in her twenties. She was his teacher. He'd never given her a single reason to believe that he thought of her at all outside of class, let alone in _that_ way. None.

If he had she would have…she'd have to…she'd be legally bound to…smack him down, give him a verbal cold shower, nip it in the bud. End it before it got started. Talk to the school shrink to make sure she didn't scare the little guy, traumatize him and mess him up for relationships forever. There was no choice; this was a non-starter, a no-brainer.

Then she started mulling over what his kind of father, his guardian, the very high powered and incredibly well-connected Mr. Bruce Wayne, richest man in the known universe would do if he found out that one of his kid's teachers had the hots for his little boy. After the law suits settled it would get really ugly—that's after People, the Gotham Gazette, the New York Times and Newsweek finished with her, after her own parents disowned her, after she was fired; and that didn't even begin to address the whole civil suit.

Jesus.

Stop this. Stop it now before anything happened, before anything got started or the kid even knew what she'd been thinking.

She got out of bed and went over to her small desk, opened her laptop and typed 'Richard Grayson' into Google search. She got over eight hundred hits come up, most of them newspaper or magazine articles from when his parents were killed and accounts of the trial along with his being taken in by Wayne. She read enough to know where he'd come from, what he'd been through the last few years and how he came to be where he was.

God, the poor thing—orphaned, his parents murdered in from of his eyes when he was eight years old. And he came from a circus background; that would explain why he was comfortable in front of the class and lacked any kind of shyness, why he seemed so self-confidant. If he'd been a child performer he'd have to have been sure of himself to do his job.

She looked at some more sites.

There were some pictures of him in costumes, of him on a trapeze and some old posters and ads for the circus they'd traveled with featuring the Flying Graysons. She also noticed that there weren't any articles about him—at least ones he'd participated in or cooperated with after he moved into Wayne Manor. Evidently there was some kind of news blackout so he could be left alone and she nodded in silent agreement with old Bruce, happy that someone seemed to care about the boy.

She printed out that one candid of him taken on some tropical vacation last year; Dick was walking out of the water with a reflexive smile on his face but under that looked a cross between slightly startled and annoyed at finding a photographer waiting for him. Water dripping off him, low-slung bathing suit, wet hair and the build of a young professional athlete.

He was beautiful.

But it was late and she had to be up early for work in the morning.

She lay back down and tried to go back to sleep but it wasn't going to happen, not right now anyway. She closed her eyes but she kept seeing those damn blue eyes and those damn shoulders and the way his tee shirt draped down his back and across his chest and how his jeans fit both front and back…

Giving up, she went into the bathroom to find a sleeping pill. Tomorrow the kids were supposed to meet with her privately, one at a time to discuss their big semester projects and she'd scheduled Dick for the last slot of the day, fifteen minutes before the end of the day bell. She'd already planned what she was going to do, now if she didn't lose her nerve she could start to lay the beginnings of a friendship.

She'd let him see that she wasn't Miss Bitch; that she was really very nice and funny and smart and all that good stuff. And the things she could teach him…Oh stop it! He was a kid, a baby and she knew better than this.

Lying back down, she started to drift off, determined not to have another dream about well built kids with blue eyes.

* * *

"How are classes going this year? Everything all right?" Bruce Wayne sipped his coffee, looked over the top of his Wall Street Journal and waited for Dick to wake up enough to answer. He by wasn't a morning person, never had been as long he'd lived in the Manor and probably never would be. Understandable, of course, all things considered, but still, the kid needed to learn how to function.

"Um, yeah. Good." Dick took a long swallow of his own coffee He knew Bruce didn't approve, but it was the only thing that got his eyes opened after a late night on patrol.

"I was thinking I may go to Back to School Night tomorrow. Thoughts?"

Dick looked horrified. "You're joking, right?" Bruce Wayne sitting through the usual smoke blowing the school always laid on to snow the parents at the beginning of every school year? God, the teachers always sucked up, the other parents always deferred and the administrators always tried to find a way to get him to finance the new science wing or something.

Then Dick would get the fallout and comments the next day from every one. God, talk about embarrassing. "Seriously, don't."

"It's not that bad and I'm curious. You know I like to know what's going on with you in school. In fact, I'm sort of looking forward to it."

"…I'll make Honor Roll again, I'm not joining any sports teams because of the time commitment but I may join the Chess Club and I was thinking about signing up for the Ski Club. My teachers are all fine and I'm sure it will be an interesting and productive year—okay? Please don't go."

"Dick, you know as well as I do that someone has to go or the school gets concerned about you being ignored or are afraid that there's a lack of home involvement."

Oh God…"Send Alfred. You know they school loves him. C'mon, Bruce—please? If you go you know the principal will twist your arm for another donation and all the divorced mothers will invite you to dinner."

Bruce considered a moment and relented, "Fine, if Alfred is willing to go, that's all right with me but I'll ask him for a complete report when he gets home. Will that be acceptable to you?"

The boy nodded. "I have to go, it's almost seven-thirty. I'll see you later." It was the best Dick was going to get and he knew it but better the butler than the Master. Maybe he could get Alf to not wear his uniform? It didn't matter, after all these years; it still made him feel funny to have people think he was to the Manor born.

* * *

Later that day, at quarter to three, Dick knocked lightly on the door to Miss Posner's cubby office. He pushed in when he heard her 'Come in' and 'Right on time, good. Please sit down.'

It was a tiny space and he had to maneuver his knees to avoid pressing against her leg. "So what have you decided to write you paper on?"

"I thought it might be interesting to write an alternative history of the end of the Civil War; what might have happened if the South won at Gettysburg."

Carolyn wondered if he was serious; the assignment was to analyze the effects of some aspect of the growth of the nation in the mid to late nineteenth century and he wanted to write science fiction? "How would you present something like that?"

"I was thinking that if looked at everything that led up to the South's loss there and then looked at the consequences afterwards…" His voice went on telling her his idea but she found herself staring at the way his lips were moving and how occasionally his tongue came barely out to lick his lips as they got dry from his talk. She noticed how his arm was resting on the edge of her desk, how she could see the play of his muscles as he moved and shifted in his seat. She was fascinated by how he moved his hands to emphasis what he was saying and how a lock of his hair kept falling over his left eye, drawing even more attention to the amazing blue color. She liked that he needed a haircut and that his jeans weren't designer by regular Levi's and a little worn.

"…So I thought it might be interesting. Okay?"

She looked him full in the face, coming back to what they were supposed to be there to discuss. "Yes, I think it has potential but I'd suggest that we meet as you're working to make sure that you're not veering too far into Rod Serlingland."

"Sure. So it's approved?"

She nodded as the bell rang. "I was wondering, is anyone coming to Back to School Night from your family?"

"I'm not sure, maybe. A family friend might make it. Why?"

"Just wondering, no real reason."

Dick gave her a hard look—another babe looking to hook up with Bruce. 'Figured.

"In fact I was hoping to meet your guardian. I was doing some checking and, to be honest, you've impressed me, Dick. I don't want to bring up anything you'd rather keep private but you've been a standout student since you arrived at the Academy and with your unusual background that's quite something." She paused as he blushed slightly and lowered his eyes in embarrassment, something she found adorable. "I've been watching you in class and you're the best student I've ever had, the other teachers agree and I just wanted to let you know that if you have any problems or even just want to talk, I'm always here."

Dick was a little confused and felt flatfooted by this. Miss Posner was coming on to him? It sure sounded like it and that was just way too weird. Nah, that was stupid. She was probably just sucking up to him as a way to get through to Bruce. Of course, that happened all the time. "Thanks."

"In fact, the more I think about it the more I think this project of yours really sounds like it has potential for being outstanding and I'd like to keep an eye on how you're doing with it, if you don't mind."

"That would be great." Like he had a choice.

"And, I know this is a little out of left field, but you were raised in a circus, weren't you?" He nodded—that wasn't any secret, in fact he was taunted as 'Circus Boy' when he first arrived at the school. "Well, I've always loved going to the circus—and I understand if you'd rather not, like if you thought it would be awkward, but Ringling Brothers is in town at the Gotham Arena this weekend and my brother gave me two tickets he bought and can't use. Since you know so much about them, I was hoping you'd do me a big favor by coming with me as someone one in the know."

"I…"

"My treat, I thought it might be fun." She saw his hesitation. "Of course if you'd rather not…"

"No, it's not that, it just that I'm sort of performing with them this weekend. I mean, their flyers are old family friends and whenever they're in the area they let me join their act for a few performances. Thank you, but sorry." He shrugged an apology, happy that he had a ready made excuse and wondering what the deal was here. Was she really asking him out on a date or was this just another 'poor orphan, gotta be nice to him' thing? It was always a good bet that she was trying to use him to get to know Bruce, but that never worked. And the odds that she was actually interested in him? Yeah, right—somewhere between zilch and zero. He was fifteen and she was like ten years older than he was; this was a non-starter.

Ah hell, maybe she was just being nice.

She gave him this knockout smile, "That's all right, it was a long shot anyway so don't worry about it. I'll see you in class tomorrow, all right?" He got up the same time she did, picking up his backpack as she reached for her purse and her briefcase full of papers to be graded. "Walk me out?"

He took the briefcase from her, carrying it as they made their way to the parking lot and wasn't all that surprised when her fingers accidentally brushed the back of his hand as he gave it back to her. It was ore than just a brush, it seemed to linger a few seconds before she gently turned his over and looked at the palm. "Your hands are callused. They're strong."

"Flying and gymnastics—they're hard on your hands. My mother used to complain about it."

"Do you?"

"Complain? No, I always liked having calluses—when I was younger I thought of them as badges of honor or something."

"You earned them." She smiled at him again and paused, "Do you need a ride home?"

He looked around; the school van had left without him since he was late talking with Miss Posner. "I can call."

"No need for that, I don't live that far from Wayne Manor; it's practically on my way." Another smile. "Get in."

He did as he was told.

* * *

Bruce was eating his dinner alone this evening and he wasn't quite sure why. "Alfred, where's Dick tonight?"

"He's attending the circus, he mentioned it this afternoon, I apologize for forgetting to mention it, sir."

"'Seeing some old friends? That's fine, probably good for him." He shook his head when offered a refill for his wineglass.

"I suppose. He said that he'd been asked to join another trapeze act he's acquainted with the members of. They've invited him to perform with them this weekend for several shows." The lack of enthusiasm was obvious.

"Alfred?"

"Forgive me, sir but while I appreciate that the young master enjoys seeing his old friends and reliving his younger years, I wish he could leave the past in the past."

Bruce placed his napkin beside his plate, indicating he was finished with his meal. "His heritage is important to him, as it should be. I don't see any harm in him doing this a few times a year."

"I suppose. He also mentioned that he might stay late talking and catching up with these folks."

"Just so long as he isn't late for school." He stood and stretched a little. "You're going to the school tonight?"

Alfred placed the dirty dishes on a tray. "Yes, indeed I am. I look forward to meeting his instructors and seeing what the school year has in store for the lad."

"Good; I'll want a full report when you get back."

"And you shall have one, sir."

* * *

Carolyn hung up the phone. She'd ordered a premium ticket to the circus for Saturday evening's performance then got her digital camera to make sure it was fully charged and the zoom lens was working.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

**Student Teacher**

**Part Three**

Alfred brought the usual tray of food and tea down to the cave. Batman was finished for the evening and would want his expected snack any moment. Sure enough, there he was, staring intently at the computer monitor.

"How did Back to School Night go?"

"Very well, sir." He placed the dishes beside Master Bruce, as he was now that his cowl was off. "The young master's teachers were extraordinarily effusive in their praise. His History teacher was particularly kind in her comments. Is seems that we are not the only ones who see how brightly his light shines."

Bruce allowed himself a small smile. "That's good to hear." He took a bite of turkey sandwich. "Is he home yet?"

"I received a call from him not five minutes ago. He wanted us to know that he's finished his rehearsal and will be here within the half hour."

Bruce nodded. "I was thinking, do you think he'd like us to see one of his shows this weekend?"

"I suspect he would be both pleased and proud that you would think to go, sir, yes indeed."

"Good. Let's plan on Saturday night, shall we? We'll use the Wayne Corp skybox."

That weekend Ringling Brothers Circus was playing what was known in the trade as a six-pack—three performances Saturday and another three on Sunday, two matinees (eleven in the morning and again at two in the afternoon) and an evening performance at seven-thirty. It made for a long two days but was easier than a nine-pack when Friday was added in as well.

Saturday evening Bruce and Alfred were in the skybox by seven fifteen, ready for the entertainment. Bruce had wanted to call the box office to fine out when the Flying Tosinis' act would begin but Alfred gave him a raised eyebrow that carried enough weight to make him change his mind and sit through the entire show. Walking in they passed the posters and large banners trumpeting the different performers the crowd could look forward to and took parental pride in the add-on; "The world renown Flying Torsini's, death defying aerialists with special guest artist, The Flying Grayson!"

The lights dimmed, the music started and the performer's parade began; clowns, acrobats, motorcyclists, equestrians, show girls on the ropes, horses, camels, elephants and dogs circled the arena in bright, bejeweled costumes. The huge venue was close to a sell-out, children loving it and their parents loving that their kids were having a good time.

The show proper started, Bruce bent to the occasion by having the stewards bring him a couple of corndogs, funnel-cakes and popcorn, all of which he shared with Alfred despite the dubious looks. The wine was from his private supply and was an outstanding vintage from the Loire and seemed to relax Alfred considerably.

"But he hasn't performed in years, sir; what if he misjudges—he could be injured and…"

"He won't fall, Alfred. You know Dick; he never falls."

"Of course, but he's not used to working with these friends of his and if anyone's timing is off by so much as a second…"

"Alfred, he'll be fine."

And hour and a half into the show the trapeze act was introduced; "Ladies and gentlemen and children of all ages. I direct your attention to the center ring. Barnum and Bailey and Ringling Brother's circus takes great pride in presenting for your entertainment and edification the greatest, most death-defying aerialists in the known world, The Flying Torsini's". The members of the troop made their entrance, spangled and Rhine-stoned capes covering their costumes and were removed with flair as the Torsini's climbed the ropes to the platforms thirty feet above the sawdust. They did their warm-ups, made a few passes, turned a few sommies and switches and gave a nice enough performance. Then it was time for the highlight of the night:

"We would now like to introduce a very special guest artist the Barnum and Bailey and Ringling Brother's family is proud top welcome this evening, Richard Grayson. The last performing member of the world renown Flying Graysons and the only human being capable of turning the world's most dangerous flying move—the quadruple somersault. To make this extraordinary feat even more dangerous, he will perform_ without a net_!"

Dick made his own entrance in a followspot, borrowed lame costume cape shimmering in the bright light. He nodded to the crowd to acknowledge the ovation, handed off the cape to a stagehand and smiled at the wolf-whistles. In body-hugging spandex, he climbed the rope to the small platform, as at home as if he were in his own bedroom. He took the bar, had a few warm-up swings and passes, landed lightly and nodded to Mario across the way, waiting on the opposite platform. The roustabouts let the safety net fall, the clank and thud adding to the drama.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we request complete silence, if you please."

A drum roll started as Dick and Mario started their swings, gaining height and speed. Suddenly Dick let go of the bar, tucked into ball and spun, rotating too fast to count, straightened out and slapped his hands against Mario's forearms as the two flyers locked in the traditional and iron grip. Dick's feet touched the small platform as he landed safely to loud applause, waved to the audience with his trademark smile in place as the Torsini's climbed down. When they were half way down, the roustabouts had replaced the safety net, Dick grabbed the bar again, swung a couple of times, leaned backwards into two layouts and landed dead center on the net, bouncing up to his feet as if he were on a trampoline, laughing the whole time. Hopping to the edge, he rolled off and landed lighting on the ground, waving again to the crowd as Mario and the rest of the Torsini's surrounded him, hugging him and escorting him into the backstage area. They were old friends, Dick was part of the club and they were thrilled to have him with them, even if it was only for a few days.

Up in the skybox Bruce and Alfred were as impressed and proud as expected. "Come on, let's go downstairs and let him know we were here, okay?"

Alfred didn't need any prompting, he would have settled for nothing less.

Meanwhile, Dick changed into his street clothes, happy that he still had another day of shows and too wound up to even begin to think about sleep. Maybe Bruce wanted a late patrol? Maybe the Titians were around?

"Dick? You were wonderful!"

He turned. A little startled to see Miss Posner standing there. How the hell had she even gotten into the dressing areas? You were supposed to have a pass to get through to the backstage. "You saw that?" Like, duh, Grayson flashed through his mind.

She smiled at him, "I told you I had tickets, remember?" He nodded, flattered but a little taken aback. "Since this was the last show of the night, I was hoping you'd do me a favor and keep me company for dinner. Maybe?"

He hadn't eaten—he never ate anything before a performance and he was getting pretty hungry but she was a teacher and…

She saw what was going through his mind. "C'mon, I won't tell anyone; my treat and you can even pick the place."

Well hell, he'd worked vice since he was like eleven so it wasn't like he was a babe in the woods and he had to eat, right? "Sure, okay, thanks—sounds good."

"C'mon, my car's just around the corner."

Four minutes later Bruce and Alfred walked into the dressing area, looking for the young master, hoping to take him home for a celebratory dinner they wanted to surprise him with. "Mario, is Dick still changing?"

"Nah, he left with some hot number a couple of minutes ago—lucky kid."

* * *

They ended up in a small diner on the edge of Brixton, a local hangout and old time favorite that still had small jukeboxes on each table.

"You really were impressive tonight Dick. Do you get many chances to do that—what do you call it? Flying? Do you do that much?"

"No, not since my parents died. The Torisini's are old friends, we used to live close to one another down in Venice during the winter."

"Venice?"

"Florida, on the Gulf Coast. A lot of circus people winter there during the off seaso0n and the Circus Museum is just over in Sarasota on John Ringling's old estate. We all helped to open one of the exhibits a few years ago when I was a kid." He blushed a little, realizing what he'd just said. "I mean when I was younger."

She smiled as he waitress handed them their sodas and asked if they were ready to order. "I'll have a garden salad, light Italian dressing on the side. Dick?"

"A bacon cheeseburger with a side of fries, well done, please." The waitress nodded and left.

Carolyn reached across the table and lifted his hand, turning it over and running her fingers over the calluses, looking at the chalk ground into his skin and the marks left by the wrist taping and braces. "That must hurt."

"Not any more. It used to but now it doesn't; when I was little they used to bleed from hanging on the bars during the rehearsals and then the performances." He paused a moment. "It upset my mother when I'd cry about the pain so I stopped."

"You stopped performing?"

"I stopped crying."

She tilted her face down so he couldn't see the tears in her eyes; she'd realized that he was remarkable, but to hide pain like that when he was just a baby so his mother wouldn't be upset? "How old were you then?"

"I don't know, maybe four or five, I guess."

Remarkable. "I don't want to pry, but…"

He laughed at that and she thought again how incredibly good-looking he was and how cheerful, despite what he'd been through. "That's when people ask something really personal."

"I won't if you don't want me to."

"Go ahead, I just may not answer."

"It must have been difficult for you; moving into Wayne Manor after living a different kind of life." The waitress arrived at that moment with their food, placing it in front of them as Dick thanked the woman but it served as a brief pause for him to choose his words.

"It was at first, sure, but Bruce and Alfred did a lot to help me adjust. I think the hardest part was getting used to going to school—my mom home schooled me up till then and it was hard for me to get used to sitting all day, I still have trouble with that."

He amazed her. "But it must have been hard to get used to living, well—living a different life-style."

"You mean because we used to be pretty poor—well, okay, living paycheck to paycheck and then bunking at the manor, right?" She nodded. "It's been harder getting used all the rumors about us. I mean they're all crap, but it's just weird, y'know?" She nodded again; everyone knew the rumors and had heard the slander about the two of them, Wayne and his boy-toy. "And it's strange not making my own money; I get it from Bruce now but I'd been getting a paycheck from the time I was like three and a half and it's weird—I guess…" He stopped, perhaps wondering if he should go on. "I don't like being dependant, and I know I can never pay him back—not just the money; I mean everything he's done for me, all the stuff he's shown me and taught me that I never would have seen if it wasn't for him."

She was picking at her salad while he was ignoring his own food. "Is that why you work so hard in school?"

"Yeah, I don't want to disappoint him." He ate a couple of fries. "I was kind of hoping that he might come to the show tonight, but I know he's busy." He took a drink of his coke. "Maybe he'll come tomorrow."

The poor thing had so much on his shoulders. "I'm sure he will."

Dick seemed to make a conscious effort to shift gears. "God, I'm sorry, I don't usually dump on people like that."

"You can talk to me any time you want. I want you to know that I'm always here for you." She smiled at him, offering reassurance as he nodded his thanks.

An hour later Carolyn drove up to the front door of Wayne Manor, the front lights on for him. "Thank you, Miss Posner. You've been really nice tonight and, well, thank you."

He was about to get out of the car when, "Dick?"

He looked back to her to see what she wanted but she took his bicep and gently but firmly pulled him back lightly kissing him on the cheek and squeezing his arm. "Thank you, Dick. I'll see you in class on Monday."

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

**Student Teacher**

**Part Four**

Dick let himself into the house, confused and a little bemused by what had just happened. Miss Posner kissed him. Okay, it was just a peck on the cheek, but Jesus—she was his teacher and he was fifteen years old. It wasn't brain surgery to figure this one out, especially when she was really dealing with Robin from Batman and…

"Master Dick, so there you are! Gracious, but I you were impressive this evening. If I may say so, both the Master and I were quite proud of your performance and the reaction from the crowd!—good lord, you'd have through you'd found the Holy Grail. My deepest congratulations, sir, my very deepest."

Dick smiled at Alfred's over the top comments, but they were still fun to hear and he wasn't all that surprised to learn that they'd showed up at the arena. Bruce owned a skybox, afterall and it was just a matter of driving over and knowing how Alf felt whenever he did any kind of exhibition or anything, well there you go. It still felt good to know they'd made the effort, though.

"And where did you disappear to afterwards? Your friends said you were there and then flew away without a word to anyone. All's to the good, is it? You enjoyed yourself this evening?"

"Oh yeah, sure, it was great to be up on the trap again and the audiences were terrific. I guess I missed you guys, huh? I'm really sorry but afterwards I went to get something to eat with a friend; you know how it is, I hadn't really eaten all day and I was starving. Hey, is Bruce still around?"

Alfred shook his head. "I fear he's 'out' for the evening, however, I know he's as proud of you as I am and that's saying quite a lot." He ushered Dick across the entranceway. "Now, if I may suggest, a good night's sleep before you must get up and do this all over again tomorrow."

Dick nodded. "Sounds good, I'm pretty whipped. 'Later, Alf. Good night."

* * *

Carolyn couldn't stop thinking about tonight, playing it over and over in her mind. It had gone better than she'd hoped.

Dick had been absolutely amazing, just as she expected him to be—in fact he was better, much, much better than she had expected. She'd thought that he'd be good or he wouldn't have been listed as a special guest artist and all of that hype and sure, they may have let him join that act for a couple of days for old times sake, but to spotlight him like that? No, he had to have the goods for that to happen.

She bought a front row ticket from a scalper outside the arena and waited through the rest of the stupid circus; all those dumb clowns and smelly animals but it was worth it. Unable to sleep, she got out of bed and let it unreel again in her mind as she wrote about it in her journal;

_When he came out like the showman he was born to be, all charisma and beauty I heard the girls around me making their adolescent remarks about how he filled out his tights, but they were right and I couldn't have agreed more. He was the most exquisite man I've ever seen, no matter what his age was and, the more I think about it, which I do too much, I know he isn't like any fifteen year old I've ever met. Or is he sixteen? No matter._

_All right, yes I know he's too young and to make it worse he's my student. He's a minor, he's the ward of Bruce Wayne who's reported to be incredibly protective of the boy and I know that not only is my job on the line, but I could be sent to jail if things get out of hand. I know all that. I do, but somehow none of it matters._

_The late dinner tonight at that crummy diner was one of the best hours or so of my life. He was friendly and sweet and funny but then he'd opened up about things I just know he never said to anyone else._

_I think, I hope he felt the connection I felt tonight. I believe that we may be soul mates and I know how insipid that sounds but I believe it with my heart and soul. I understand him and I know he could understand me as well if he had the chance._

_I should wait until he's older, I know that. I should take this time to lay the groundwork for us to be together, to build a strong friendship and spend time with him as a mentor who can help him get whatever it is he wants… That's another thing, I don't know yet what he may want to do with his life—he's so young—but I could help him, no matter what it is that he wants. I could even help him find his course, whatever it may end up being and it doesn't really matter what that may be. I can't imagine anything he applies himself to not being a success. _

_I know all this with as much certainty as I've ever felt about anything in my life._

_Just as I know we're meant to be together._

_Oh Jesus! I just looked at what I wrote and I sound like insane stalker but that's not what this is at all. No, not even close._

_I just see him for not just what he is but for all that he can be and will become._

_I know other people love him, that he has Wayne and he has friends his own age. I understand that people won't understand how I feel and will try to make it out like I'm one of those idiot pedophile teachers who are in the news now and then—the ones who claim they couldn't help themselves and then end up in jail or pregnant by a fourteen year old or something just as stupid. No, that's not what this is. I know that if the time comes and he decides that it's not right for him, I'll understand and step aside._

_It will be difficult, but I'll do it if that's what's best for Dick. _

_I only want what's best for him—that's all I want and I have to think I'm one of the things (people?) who are in that category._

_As ridiculous as it sounds I feel like we're soul mates and I can wait for him to grow up. I want the privilege of watching it happen._

_When he's ready, when we're both ready then it will be right and we'll both know it._

* * *

Carolyn was at the next day's shows, all three of them. She bought tickets at the box office, one for each performance, making sure that they were all in different sections of the arena so that she could see him fly from different angles and different perspectives. She toyed with the idea of surprising him again after the last show to take him out for another dinner but was afraid that she'd scare him and so restrained herself.

It wasn't that she was stalking or any of that nonsense. It was just that she was so proud of him.

* * *

"I trust that you enjoyed yourself this weekend, Master Dick?"

"God, Alfred—it was incredible. It was just like I remembered it. Well, almost…" He stopped, embarrassed that he'd forgotten the major gaps in his being back. Instead of the Flying Graysons, it was just the Flying Grayson. Singular. His Dad was there to catch him, his mother wasn't there to tell him how well he'd done or to make the late night snack for him before bed and for a job well done. "It was great seeing everyone again and they all said it was like riding a bike, that I hadn't forgotten anything and when I turned the quads—I got a standing O at every show. Well, except the early mats, but screw it—those audiences always suck anyway."

Alfred smiled at the young man, so excited and sill so young to be making a comeback. "You know you may go back whenever you want, I'm sure that all of your old friends made that clear." He picked up a wet towel from the floor. "And the Master was beside himself with pride at your expertise, you know. He was positively bursting."

"He was there?"

"We both were. We went backstage afterwards but were informed that we'd just missed you—no, no harm done, you'd certainly earned a few hours with your friends after all your hard work and you had no idea that we'd be there. Not to worried, Master Dick."

"Jeez, I'm sorry, Alf, if I'd known I'd have stayed around."

"Of course. Well, next time then, all right? We'll plan on it."

* * *

"Hey Grayson, what happened to you this weekend? You get laid or something?"

"What makes you ask, Steve?"

"You look happy and relaxed, that's why—you're never relaxed. Happy, sure, but happy _and_ relaxed? Never."

Dick laughed. "So untrue. And not that it's any of your business, but I spent the weekend with some old friends; it was great."

The bell rang and they took their seats in History just as Miss Posner walked in, stone-faced as usual and staring the class into silence. "Quiet and take out a clean sheet of paper for a pop quiz. I said be _quiet_." But she couldn't help let the rigid lines in her face slip slightly when she looked over at Dick.

At the end of class, after they'd taken their quizzes and then sat reading another chapter in the textbook, she handed back the graded papers as the kids filed out. "Good work, Dick." He saw a red A on the top next to his name.

"Thanks." The classroom was empty except for the two of them. "Thanks for last Saturday, too; I really enjoyed myself and I didn't want to just go home—to keyed up after the shows. That was just what I needed and hat was really nice of you to bother coming to the show and all."

She blushed at his compliments. "No, no—thank _you_. You were wonderful. I had no idea you were that good, I was incredibly impressed, I really was. I can't imagine what your life was like before you ended up here; it must have been exciting, travelling with all those people and then performing in front of thousands of people. I'm in awe; just watching that was a treat for me."

"Yeah, well it's been so long that it was a treat for me, too. I'd almost forgotten what it was like so, anyway—thanks." He slung his backpack over one shoulder. "I've gotta go."

She nodded; she had another class in a few minutes too. "'See you tomorrow."

* * *

Dick didn't really have another class right away, it was study hall and he sauntered his way down to the library then sat at an empty table in the back where he wouldn't be bothered. He wasn't an idiot; he knew Miss Posner had a case for him and he knew it was a non-starter from the get-go.

He wasn't going to ask her out, he wasn't about to let anything get out of hand and he sure as hell wasn't going to do anything that would get either of them in any kind of trouble with the school, Bruce or—more importantly, Batman.

But in the meantime he was enjoying the hell out of it.

But playtime was over; the circus was moving on to the next town and it was time for Batman and Robin to get back to work.

* * *

Bruce handed Alfred his overcoat and briefcase as he came through the front door. "Alfred, please let me know when Dick gets in, I need to talk to him."

"Might I ask if it involves his activities this past weekend?"

"It does. Please tell him when he gets in."

"He placed the case on the hall table. "If I might be so bold, sir, I would suggest that you let sleeping dogs lay, as it were."

"Excuse me?"

"I suspect that things will right themselves without intervention."

Bruce regarded the old man, he was usually right about things but this had potential for serious repercussions. "You do?"

"I suspect so, sir."

Bruce paused a moment, considering. "Perhaps, but I'd like to keep an eye on things."

"Of course, sir."

TBC

5


	5. Chapter 5

**Student Teacher**

**Part Five**

The next day in school Dick got a note from Miss Posner asking that he meet her in the History office during fifth period to discuss a paper he'd barely started working on and which as due in about two weeks. It was a standard request from a teacher to a student but he had a strong feeling that she didn't really give a rat's ass about his opinions regarding the Teapot Dome scandal and had no intention of talking about long past political scandals; it turned out that he was right.

But, having no real choice other than a flat out lie—and being secretly flattered by her attention, he showed up as asked.

"Thanks for stopping by, Dick. I just wanted to make sure you were okay after I dropped you off Saturday. You know, I was afraid that you may have felt funny or something."

Dick leaned against a tall file cabinet inside the office door. "Sure, no problem. I mean, thanks for letting me unwind like that; it was exactly what I wanted just then and you seemed to clue in to that."

Neither of them brought up the fact that she wanted to spend some time alone with him—or at least alone enough that they could talk, nor did either of them mention the kiss. "Did anyone at your home worry when you walked in so late? I'd hate it if I caused you any problems about that."

"No, no one minded or anything. It was fine."

She smiled; good, she'd been a little worried about that since she had no idea what his home life was really like. "How did the rest of the shows go the next day?" She wasn't about to admit that she'd been to them all.

"Good, good audiences and it was great to see my old friends again." He shifted his weight and sat down on the edge of a neighboring desk. "They even asked if I might be able to join the show for Christmas break for the Boston, New York, Philly leg of the tour."

"Good lord, I can't imagine what that must be like, all that traveling and seeing the country like you did when…" She stopped. "Oh God, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bring up any bad memories for you. Really, I didn't."

"They're good memories, Miss Posner. Don't worry about it." He made a small movement with his head that wasn't quite a shrug. Most of the memories were good, anyway. "Bruce understands that it's part of my life and probably always will be to some degree. He's okay with it."

He amazed her, still only fifteen and here he was trying to put her at ease after her thoughtless lapse. When he was twenty or thirty he'd be incredible.

"'You wanted to talk about my paper?"

She almost started. "Yes, I did. How's it coming so far?" She shuffled through a list of which kid was writing on which subject. "The Teapot Dome scandal. Fascinating subject and one important one."

"Yeah, right, you need to get out more." Dick laughed out loud at that. Important in American history? Sure, it was but fascinating? That was a stretch. Boring maybe? More to the point as far as he could see, but then it was hardly the kind of thing designed to float his boat. "It's fine."

"If you have any problems with it, just talk to me, all right?" Of course it was fine; he was a smart kid and he could do work like this in his sleep. He stood up to go, assuming they were finished but; "I was wondering something."

"Yes?" Most kids would have pronounced it 'yeah'.

"I know you're busy, but would you like to make some extra money? My roommate and I want to paint our apartment and I was hoping that you might have some time next weekend. I could pay you a hundred dollars and we could really use the help."

He hesitated; he hated painting and he was supposed to go camping with Roy and Wally next weekend. They'd been planning it for a month. "I'd like to help but I have plans, sorry."

"I understand but how about the week after? It doesn't really matter when we do it and another person would make all the difference."

"Um, I don't know, I'm pretty heavily booked and…"

"Please? I know Sarah hasn't been able to find anyone and we can't afford a professional. You'd really be saving our lives if you could fit us in—I swear you would."

The old saying that 'flattery will get you anywhere' still hung true. "…I guess I could…"

"Wonderful! You'll be our hero. The week after next? That will be perfect and we'll supply the pizza. Let me give you my address and phone number, just in case; say about nine-thirty? Is that too early?"

"How about ten? It's a Saturday."

"Of course, ten it is. Thank you, Dick, this will be such a huge help; you've no idea."

He nodded, picked up his backpack and left the small office, almost bumping into another student hanging around the door, obviously eavesdropping. "Nice going, Grayson. Playing footsie with Madam Tightass. Your guardian is out of her reach and so she's settling for the kid—obvious much?"

"Shut up, Colin."

"Yeah, good comeback." Colin laughed as Dick pushed past him.

Dammit, it would be all over the school now, that was a given and a no-brainer. "Hey Colin, lay off, will you? It's nothing, 'swear to God. 'Just painting her place with her and her roommate. Don't do anything stupid that'll get her in trouble, okay?" Colin was a lot like Roy, a blowhard and sometimes a complete jackass, but he basically meant well; he could usually be reasoned with. "Colin, c'mon."

"Yeah, sure, whatever. I'm not going to say anything to anyone. I swear, Grayson, you want to waste a weekend painting that bitch's house, that's your problem." Colin meant what he said, he wouldn't tell anyone mainly because he didn't care enough about either Posner or Grayson to say anything to anyone. But since when did Grayson need a hundred dollars? Bruce Wayne was Bruce Wayne, f'Chrissakes and he was paying Grayson's bills.

Well, whatever, no skin off his ass.

* * *

Two weeks later Dick showed up at ten sharp to the small carriage house the two women were renting. They'd gotten the paint, rollers, extension poles, tarps and a few brushes but had forgotten the roller trays. Dick volunteered to walk down to the hardware store a few blocks away while the others started the cutting in around the woodwork and ceilings. He was on line at the checkout of the mom and pop store, when one of his classmates, Jason Weber came up behind him, weather stripping in hand.

"What 'you doing here, Grayson? I thought that you guys had a staff on call at all times at your place."

"Oh, we do; I'm just slumming." Jason glanced at the paint trays in Dick's hand. "I'm helping someone paint their apartment."

Jason nodded. "I'm helping my dad; 'every weekend he finds new projects."

It was Dick's turn at the counter. Dammit, he'd left his wallet over at Miss Posner's, he had no choice but to do as she'd asked him to; "Please put these on Carolyn Posner's bill."

He saw Jason's face register the fact, though he didn't say anything. Dick knew the odds of this kind of thing staying quiet once someone thought they saw something, or even just thought they'd seen something were close to nonexistent.

* * *

When he got back to the apartment he didn't bother saying anything to anyone and about the seventh time he asked 'Miss Posner' where something was or how they wanted this or that done she finally said, "Dick, please, just call me Carolyn and this is Emily, okay? I mean at least while we're not in school."

He nodded, laughing while some part of him clued in that they'd just turned some kind of corner. He'd half expected it to happen and, hey, he was only human, right?

The work went easily, they all got along and it wasn't any kind of brain surgery to paint a wall. It turned out that they were just doing the living room and the kitchen, neither room all that big and so the three of them had them done in less than four hours, including the trim.

Finally, work just about finished and all of them hungry, they took a break. "I'll get the pizza, Carol—pepperoni and mushroom okay for everyone?"

"Sounds good, Em. I'll call it in." A few minutes later she went to pick up the pies while Carolyn and Dick started cleaning up.

He covered what was left in the paint cans with the lids, standing on them to get them tightly sealed (his dad had always called that the 'paint can dance'), pulled up the plastic tarps and wadded them into garbage bags then moved onto cleaning out the brushes. His hands in the kitchen sink, rubbing dish soap into the bristles and with the water running over the radio, he didn't hear Carolyn, startled when he felt her standing beside him, using the same soap to get the paint off her hands. She gave him a playful shove with her shoulder to get some more room for herself. Teasing, he shoved back.

Her hip gave him another push. He flicked some water on her face just before she grabbed the sprayer hose and soaked his tee shirt. "It needs washing anyway, you can thank me!"

He twisted the nozzle away from her, holding both her hands in one of his and loaded the now clean brush with water, flicking it at her. "Stoppit!" Carolyn twisted out of his grip, both of them laughing, everything within six feet getting soaked when she regained control of the hose in a full out water fight until he got her in a neck lock and bent her head under the running water.

She started screaming, shrieking and sputtering, kicking with her feet on the wet floor, slipping as they both went down in a sodden pile with Dick on top of her, their faces close together.

Without stopping to think, Carolyn, still laughing, reached up and kissed him, full on the pulled away, horror on her face as she realized she'd crossed the line with a student and a minor. "Oh Jesus, I'm sorry."

Dick didn't say anything. He wasn't shocked or upset; he'd been around enough that it was hardly his first kiss and so he lowered his head and kissed her back.

Neither of them really planned it, neither of them was really surprised. Pulling back they looked at one another as they heard Emily's car pull in and the slam of her door closing.

Dick got to his feet and offered his hand to help her up before the roommate could see them.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

**Student Teacher**

**Part Six**

Three months later:

"Miss Posner, if you insist that there's nothing unethical going on between you and the Grayson boy, then I'll believe you. However, you have to be aware of the implications and the consequences both to you and to this school if anything should come out at a later date. Richard is fifteen years old, I'm sure I don't have to remind you that he's a minor in this state and if we should come to it, you'd be looking at possible statutory rape." The principal held up her hand to stop the protest—"And you'd be looking at both jail time from a criminal conviction and a presumed enormous civil suit since you'd also be dealing with Bruce Wayne and all of his legal resources; he's very protective of the boy."

"I refuse to apologize for something which never happened, Ms Thacker. I never, in any way, did anything whatsoever to suggest I was inappropriately interested in that child. I never touched him; I'll admit that he's a favorite student of mine, but it's a purely professional, student/teacher relationship. Every teacher in this school agrees that he's exceptional; he's intelligent, curious and a remarkably hard worker. Plus he's overcome a tremendously difficult personal situation to get where he is now." She stood, ready to walk out the door. "In addition to all of that, I understand that you have no one who will say they've witnessed anything improper. I intend to fight this witch-hunt as far as have to and you can tell that to the school board. I've done nothing wrong and if you think I'm just going to quietly resign, I suggest that you rethink the situation."

"Miss Posner, the fact that I'm compelled to have this conversation with you should act as a warning should anything untoward be going on."

"You're fishing, Ms Thacker and I won't be part of a witch hunt."

"Miss Posner, I'd hardly characterize a few questions as a 'witch hunt'…"

"Everything you've brought up is innuendo and speculation, based on nothing other than malicious gossip and I won't be harassed into admitting to something which never happened."

"I don't deal in gossip and speculation where my staff is concerned, Miss Posner."

"Has anyone spoken to Dick? He'll verify that nothing happened; just talk to him and stop this absurdity."

The principal sat back in her chair the desk a barrier between the two women. "Yes, I've spoken to him and I can only suggest that you consider your future choices very carefully. Now I believe that you have a class in a few minutes so I'll let you go, but don't think this is the end of the matter."

* * *

"Master Bruce, there was a call from the young master's school this afternoon. It didn't sound like anything worth disturbing you about but I would suggest that you return the call from the principal when you have a moment."

"Has Dick done something? Is he in some kind of trouble?"

"The lady declined to discuss the particulars with me, though she did stress that he was perfectly fine and had done nothing to warrant any punishment. Ms Thacker merely said there was something she wished to discuss with you at your convenience. I placed her number on your desk."

Bruce knew better. No principal called any parent unless something was going on or, in his case, they wanted a large donation for something or other. The odds were that there was some kind of a problem she was simply unwilling to discuss with someone who wasn't listed as a guardian. He looked at the message; there were two numbers written, her office and her home number.

Her home number; that meant this was serious.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Ms Thacker? Bruce Wayne here, I understand you called?"

"Yes, thank you for returning my call, Mr. Wayne. There's something I'd like to discuss with you but I'd prefer not to do so over the phone. I was hoping that we might be able to meet tomorrow, if that would be convenient for you."

"May I ask what this is concerning? Has Dick done something, is he in some kind of trouble?"

"…I understand your concern, but honestly, I'd really rather not get into this over the phone. I know it's after eight in the evening, but if you'd like, if you're available, would you be free now?"

Now? Christ, what was this about? "That would be fine, I can come to you if that would be easier."

The arrangements quickly made, her address and directions memorized, Bruce took the new Jag and was at the woman's home in less than twenty minutes. She opened the door as he walked up, "Thank you for being so prompt, Mr. Wayne. I know how these sort of calls can send chills down a parent's spine."

They went into a comfortably furnished living room, a coffeepot, cups and a plate of cookies in place. "Please, be seated." He nodded out of simple good manners as she gestured towards the refreshments.

"Now, what's this about, Ms Thacker?"

She paused, sighed and added some sugar to her coffee, obviously stalling. "There have been some rumors concerning Dick and one of his teachers, that they're becoming 'involved'."

"'Involved?' What precisely are we talking about here? Dick's only fifteen years old, for God's sake." He was also Robin, leader of the Teen Titans, a veteran working pedophile vice cases and more street savvy that any three kids put together. Involved with one of his teachers? Jesus. "Is there any proof or are we just talking about rumors and gossip? And who is this teacher he's supposed to be seeing?" Bruce put a mental lid on himself; getting emotional wouldn't accomplish anything; Batman had made a career with that belief in mind.

"There's no actual proof, no; at least none that I've seen. However, evidently there's quite a bit of circumstantial proof and I spoke with the teacher in question this afternoon—she denied any improper behavior."

"But you clearly seem to think that where's there's smoke there's fire or wouldn't be here."

She nodded. "I'm afraid so and I didn't think you'd want to wait until some kind of a crisis happened before I spoke with you."

"Of course, thank you. Now what do you think's going on and why?"

* * *

"Hey Grayson—word is that you got lucky with Miss Tightass Posner. Easy A, dude."

"Shut up, Colin." They were in the locker room, changing for gym and Dick and his supposed paramour were the subject of the day.

"So, is she any good?" Michael smirked from the end of the row.

Dick tried to ignore the gossip, but it was pointless. The less he said, the more it looked like he was trying to hide something. And the more he thought about it the more he wanted to know where the talk was really coming from. He and Carolyn hadn't done anything, not really. Sure she'd showed up at the circus a few months ago and a few people knew he'd helped her and Emily paint their place a while after that but it wasn't like they were making out in the hallways or anything.

They didn't go out to movies or dinner, they never took walks or went to any of he local stuff going on like the craft fairs or local parades or any of that. They never spent any time together in school, aside from class time and they never arrived or left together.

Maybe it was just BS gossip, the kind that has a twenty-four hour shelf life and then is forgotten until the next story or victim comes along.

And Jesus, it wasn't like they were actually doing anything. They weren't dating, they sure weren't sleeping together and he'd seen some pictures in her place when they were painting—it looked like she had a boyfriend or something. She was just his teacher.

Okay, sure she did kiss him a couple of times and he couldn't even pretend that they were just friendly pecks on the cheeks or a big-sisterly kind of thing. He knew she kind of liked him, but in _that_ way? He'd been thinking about it, what was happening and how he felt about, not to mention what he was going to do about it.

But the thing was that he really did kind of like her. He knew that part of it was simply being flattered because she was a teacher and she was pretty hot, but aside from that, he thought she was kind of okay to be around. She listened to him and she thought he was smart. She'd been really impressed by that guest gig he had with Ringling Brothers a few months ago and she'd made a big deal about it to Emily while they were all painting. It felt good to have all that attention. Okay, Robin got a lot of attention and fangirls were always writing him and asking for autographs and sending him their pictures but that was just embarrassing.

This was different, she wasn't a kid, she was pretty and smart, an adult and she liked _him_. It was, well, it was cool.

And she'd even kissed him.

* * *

Batman was sitting at the main computer console in the cave, staring at the monitor while he ran an in-depth background search on Carolyn Gail Posner. So far he'd found out she'd graduated Magna from Columbia University, went to NYU for her Masters with honors and was a member of Phi Beta Kappa. She'd been brought up in a middle-class home on Long Island as a middle child of three. Her father was a plumber, her mother worked as a clerk in a department store at a local mall. She was homecoming queen her senior year in high school, had a clean driving record, no prior marriages and no police record of any kind.

A little after nine that evening he slipped, unseen, through her opened second floor bedroom window. No one was home; there was a party at the room mate's boyfriend's place and the two women would be busy there for at least several more hours.

He quickly looked through the photos on the top of the bureau; they were just the usual snaps of parents, siblings and pets. There was a group shot on a beach, the entire family wearing bathing suits; smiling and looking like a fifties perfect family.

Next he looked at the pile of books on her night stand; just the usual library copies of best sellers and an old paperback copy of Red Badge of Courage, one of the books Dick was reading for his English class.

There were a couple of piles of essays or something on her desk, looking like she ad been in the middle of grading them when she went out. Shuffling through the pile he found Dick's paper. It was that term paper he'd been working on for a while, the one about the Teapot Dome scandal with A/A written in red on the front. A in content, A for grammar and composition. Thumbing through it he read the comments on the last page, "Perfect as usual. Wonderful effort—I'm proud of you!" Batman replaced it in the middle of the pile where he'd taken it.

On the floor next to her desk chair were a few books. Picking one up he saw last year's yearbook from Brixton Academy and pieces of paper marking pages. He opened the book—Dick's class picture, Dick sitting in some class laughing at some other kid sitting beside him, Dick in a group shot lounging on the wall outside the main entrance.

Inside the front cover were some pictures that appeared to be downloaded and then printed from a computer—old publicity shots of the Flying Graysons, old newspaper clipping and reviews and finally clipping about the Grayson's murders and the trial.

Her address book was next to the phone, inside the front cover were several loose pieces of paper with numbers written on them, one of them said 'DG—555-8427'; Dicks private phone.

Jesus, it was what he'd thought and maybe worse—she was a stalker. He had a few options, he could call the school, Batman could scare the living hell out of her, he could get enough evidence and have Bruce Wayne file a lawsuit against her and the school system, he could…

The note fell out of the back of the address book as he went to put it back where he'd found it. It was, of course, Dick's handwriting.

_Dear Carolyn, I just wanted to thank you again for letting me talk to you the other night—I was pretty wound up and it felt really good to just say what was on my mind. You've no idea what it's like sometimes; I feel like I'm going to explode if I can't let off some steam and you let me do that. Bruce is great and all—he's been incredible to me—but sometimes it feels like he wants me to be someone I'm not and that gets hard._

_God—sorry—I'm whining and I don't mean to be. _

_I just wanted you to really know how much being able to spend time with you has made this year a lot easier._

_I know that we're not doing anything that we shouldn't be—hardly anything, but I know you're right that we can't tell anyone. I know what the laws are and I know how old we both are but you've made a difference to me and I want you to know that._

_Dick_

There was a dried and pressed rose with the note, obviously saved as a keepsake.

Batman stopped; maybe this wasn't as cut and dried between the two of them as it seemed.

TBC

6


	7. Chapter 7

**Student Teacher**

**Part Seven**

Dick walked into the History office just as the fourth period bell was ringing. He had an hour-long study hall every Wednesday and Carolyn was usually marking papers; they'd gotten into the habit of spending the time together. Sometimes she'd work or he'd do some reading but usually they'd just talk. She was siting there when he arrived. "Hi, you have lunch yet?"

She shook her head as she wrote 'C-' on some kid's test. "Not yet, you want to go out and get something?"

"We can leave?"

"Sure, as long as we're back in time for fifth period."

They were out the door, as they climbed into her car he mentioned, "We don't have much time."

She shrugged, "C'mon, we have fifty-seven minutes. You a fussy eater?" He shook his head as she pulled out of the driveway and onto the quiet road and headed east to the mall, stopping just before the entrance at the local McDonald's. "This okay?"

They went through drive-thru and ended up parked in a far corner of the lot in the shade of some big trees, windows opened for the fresh air and no other cars within fifty feet.

Dick dug in to his fries and asked, "So why are we here? What did you want to talk about you couldn't say in school?"

"I'm that easy to read?" She sipped her soda. "Okay, it's just what you think it is—we have to back off seeing each other. Thacker called me on the carpet yesterday and indirectly threatened me to stay away from you." She said it matter-of-factly with almost no inflection.

"Fine, so we don't see each other in school. No problem." He knew it wouldn't be this simple.

"Dick, c'mon, you know that won't work. She was making noises about calling Bruce and that would mean a lawsuit and all the rest of it." She squeezed his hand on the seat between them. "We have to put this in hold for a while."

He shook his head, knowing what she was going to say and not wanting to hear it. "Carolyn, don't say that."

"Honey, it's just for a few months and I hate it as much as you do."

"But they don't have any proof of anything; we haven't done anything to get upset about." He looked out the window for a moment. "I'll talk to Bruce, he won't do anything if I ask him not to." That was a lie and they both knew it as soon as it was out of his mouth.

* * *

Bruce sat at his desk, the one on the fifty-seventh floor of Wayne Enterprises, wondering what to do. Clearly he had to put a stop to this, but how? According to the note he'd found from Dick to his teacher there was something going on, but it hadn't progressed as far as he'd been worried about.

On the significant other hand, Dick was involved with one of his teachers.

The woman was violating her contract, was risking her job, her license and her teaching credentials, not to mention the very real possibility of a law suit and jail time; God knew there were any number of cases on the books involving teachers with underage students.

Mary Letourneau, Pam Smart, that blonde down in Florida whose name escaped him at the moment. They'd all served jail time for their affairs with underage students. Pam Smart was still in jail as far as he knew; though hers was an extreme case involving the added attraction of murdering her husband. Letourneau and her young lover eventually married after her release from prison and, the last he'd heard, they were living with their two children.

There'd been a teacher at his own high school, an attractive, mid-thirties woman who'd taught several of the advanced math classes. He remembered the scandal when she'd left her job, divorced her husband and ended up married to one of her students. They'd waited until he'd graduated, but it had still happened and God knew when it had started.

Was Dick this deeply involved with this young woman, this Carolyn Posner?

Of course the boy was flattered at being chosen, at being picked out but he knew better. The fact that he'd never said a word about any of this proved he knew it was wrong.

* * *

"I know, I understand but it's still stupid—we haven't _done_ anything. Aren't we allowed to even be _friends_?"

"Dick, please. You know better than that and it doesn't matter anyway. You're my student and you're fifteen. If this were a college instead of a high school it might be different, but the reality is…"

"It's bullshit."

"Dick, please. You know that…"

"Sure, I know that if I was twenty instead of fifteen then it wouldn't be an issue but I'm not a normal fifteen year old and anyone who's ever met me knows that. I mean—Christ—I started working as a professional when I was three years old. I've been all over the world and there isn't a single state in the US I haven't been to. I watched my parents die and I think I've made a pretty damn good adjustment to everything. " He slammed his hand down on Carolyn's kitchen table, "I mean, c'mon!"

She moved over to him and put a calming hand on his shoulder. "You'll be sixteen in a few months. And there's no reason at all why we can't still see each other in school."

He'd stopped ranting and was, on the surface, back in control. "You're saying we should forget about this until I'm legal or is this a kiss-off?" There was a kind of steely edge to his voice that made her pull back and she had the sudden realization that this young man was, indeed, no normal teenager. Though she didn't know it, she'd just met Robin.

She pushed that stray lock of hair out of his face, "I'm saying that you're mature and intelligent enough to recognize the realities of the situation. Right now this is, technically, illegal and you know it as well as I do. No matter what our feelings for one another may be, the simple fact is that you're underage and that makes us being together a crime." He knew this and didn't interrupt. "You also know that if anyone decided to make an issue of it, I'd lose everything and you'd be dragged through the mud with me." She gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek. "Neither of us wants that." He shook his head in agreement. "All right then, we can see each other in school, you can still come to the History office on your free periods and in a few months we'll see."

"You're taking the position that we're guilty because you don't want to deal with gossip. I've been dealing with that since I moved in with Bruce—you think I don't know want people say and think about us? It never made me leave or him throw me out; it's just garbage and if you ignore it it'll go away as soon as a something comes along to shift the attention to someone else." He stood up abruptly, the veneer of placation gone. "We'll see? Yeah, right." The door didn't quite slam behind him.

* * *

Bruce was still uncertain how to handle this but he was going through his options, eliminating most of them and not liking the ones that were left. The first idea he threw out was having Batman have anything to do with this. Sure, it might work but there was no reason on earth the Batman, or any of the Justice League, would have any interest in something like this and would simply raise more questions than it solved.

That was a non-starter.

He could simply have a talk with the boy, which would imply that he'd been spying or violating his privacy. That then asked the question of how much privacy a minor could reasonably expect and would risk a breech in their sometimes rocky relationship.

The last and best option was that he could have a talk with the young lady involved but before he did that he wanted to have more than just circumstantial evidence, which she would likely deny.

Fine, that shouldn't be too big a problem.

Decision made, he wasn't happy about any of this. Bruce understood Dick's point of view about this, or he thought he did. An intelligent and attractive older woman singled him out for special attention and, naturally he was flattered. Dick was a teenager; his hormones were kicking in and raging. He was also Robin and between the two personas he had probably had more on his plate than just about anyone his age and so when he was offered sympathy—no matter what form that sympathy took, it was only natural that he'd jump at the offer.

And there was something else tat might have influenced him, now that Bruce really gave it thought. Dick lived in an entirely masculine household. Robin functioned in a largely all male environment and even the Titans only had Wonder Girl for variety. It was entirely possible that Dick craved contact with a woman, much as the thought made Bruce shake his head. When he'd been fifteen he'd already started his studies that led him to becoming Batman. Dick was barely nine when he put on Robin's costume and had done so with much less anguish.

He was a completely different personality with different needs than Bruce.

Bruce could use women and chalk it up to hiding his Bat identity behind Bruce Wayne's vapidity. Dick had no such need to justify time he wanted to spend with a woman.

It couldn't be that simple, could it? It couldn't be just, well, just sex. What was he thinking? Of _course_ it could be just sex.

God, he was getting a headache.

* * *

Robin had just finished up the monthly meeting at Titans Tower, the others were all there and since they'd finished business the usual next thing would be to order in food and hang with a movie.

"Robbie, you joining us tonight or do you have to patrol with the Bat?" Donna knew something was on his mind. Unusual for him, he'd been distracted and even lost the thread of his thoughts twice while he was talking. She couldn't remember a single time that had happened and she was worried; it was obvious that his mind was somewhere else.

"No, no patrol but don't bother getting me anything, I'm not hungry." He made a move towards the door leading to the private quarters. "'Thanks, anyway."

After a few minutes Donna followed him to his room. "Dick, you okay?"

"Yeah, sure. 'Just a little tired, that's all. Tell you what, if you haven't ordered, I really feel like some Chinese; maybe some Lo Mein and a couple of egg rolls?" He pulled his shirt off, "'Think I'll take a shower while I'm waiting, thanks, Donna."

She knew him better than that. "So what's really going on with you, chum? You've got something on your mind and have for a while now—you and Bruce fighting again?"

He never could fool Donna. "…No, no fighting."

"Then what is it? I don't mean to pry but something's got you tied up in knots—I'd like to help, if you'd let me. You're one of my best friends and it's not like you to let things get you down."

"It's nothing. Really."

"Sure it is." She wasn't going to be fobbed off and a part of Dick was happy about that; he needed an impartial opinion and Donna was the best at that of anyone he knew.

He moved some books so she could sit on the edge of the bed. "I've met someone and we're sort of involved."

This was news; Dick never seemed to have time for a girlfriend. "Is that good or bad?"

"A little of both—she's a little older than I am and I'm technically still a minor."

Donna knew immediately what that meant; a possible statutory rape case if anyone cared enough to make trouble. Barbara Gordon? It had to be her; Dick had been mooning after her foe years. "What does Bruce say?"

"He hasn't yet, but he will. The other problem is that she's a teacher at my school; she's one of _my_ teachers."

That was unexpected. "She cares about you, too?" Dick nodded. "Is she afraid for her job or a scandal?"

"Well of course she is and so she wants to put everything on hold until I'm at least of age."

"That makes sense, you know it does."

"But the thing is that we aren't even sleeping together." I mean, he blushed but went on. "We're doing some other stuff but it's not like that. And it's more than that; we really like each other. We like being together and just hanging out. No one seems to believe that."

Donna believed it; if Dick said it was true it was—it was that simple. "It still sounds like a reasonable thing, at least until your birthday. I also think you should talk to Bruce about it; you know he has to know about this."

He nodded, it wasn't anything he hadn't thought himself, he was just postponing the inevitable.

"Dick, you must really care about her."

He turned to her, wanting her to understand. "It's that she's—I mean, she's…Bruce and Alfred are great but they're not really—this sounds stupid—I know it does—but it—they—no one ever touches anyone at the Manor, y'know? No one ever tells me that I'm doing a good job or asks if I'm okay or need anything." He stopped, looking to see if Donna understood what he meant and, of course, she did. "She makes me feel like I matter—not 'Robin' or 'Bruce Wayne's ward', but _me_. I matter to someone."

"Honey, you have to tell Bruce that."

"He'll tell me in ten different ways why I'm being an idiot."

"Give him a chance—please? I think he might surprise you." Mentally she crossed her fingers, hoping she was right.

TBC

6


	8. Chapter 8

**Student Teacher**

**Part Eight/Conclusion**

Dick came down the main staircase towards the front door, jacket on and headed out. "Alf, I'm going over to the Tower to watch the playoffs, 'later."

"Dick, wait a minute, will you?"

The boy stopped, surprised that Bruce was home at five in the afternoon, in fact he'd assumed that he'd be home at his usual six or seven or dawn. He looked a question at Bruce who was just coming into the entrance hall from the mail living room.

"I'd like to have a talk, if you don't mind; come on, sit down."

"The others are waiting for me…" He didn't want to do this; he knew what was coming and he'd avoided it for almost six months. Couldn't they just put it off a few more days?

"This won't take long."

With no real choice, he followed Bruce and sat on the long leather chesterfield couch facing the lit fireplace and thought it odd that it didn't seem to add any warmth to the room. He let Bruce start things off, quietly sitting while he waited.

"Your school called me a little while ago, I assume you know what it was about."

There was no point in denying anything or playing dumb, this was Batman he was dealing with. "What do they want to do—I mean, what _are_ they doing? Or are they waiting to see where you stand on this?" He half expected Bruce to read him the riot act, but it didn't happen. He was in that calm, introspective mode he hit sometimes when he was really upset about something.

"You know that I'm not happy about this, but I also believe that you have real feelings for this young woman. I'm even willing to accept that she thinks that you two may have some kind of future together when you get a little older, though I have reservations about that. None of this changes the fact that what you two are doing is illegal—she's technically responsible and I could file charges."

"How long have you known?"

"Since the day you went to help paint her apartment. Now look, I don't want to drag either of you through the courts, but this has to stop. If you'll assure me that you'll end it I'll take you at your word and that will be the end of things. Are you willing to do that?"

"Is there any reason why we can't stay friends? I mean just friends?"

"I don't think that would be a good idea, Dick."

There it was, black and white. Period. No discussion. Stop or he'd take Carolyn to court and eviscerate her…or have his legal team do it for him. She wouldn't stand a chance against Wayne Enterprises, none. He didn't even have to say it; Dick knew what would happen and he knew she wouldn't stand a chance.

Bruce had hamstrung him. "I want to tell her in person."

* * *

"I simply can't help myself, Leslie, I should have realized that something was going on, that something was amiss. I shall go to my grave with this knowledge and I can blame no one but myself for my shortcomings and what pain they may end up costing that child."

Dr. Leslie patted his hand, "You know that simply isn't true, Alfred. Dick is a remarkably precocious young man, he's not a child and I suspect he hasn't been since the night his parents were killed. He's much more mature and advanced for his age than any normal fifteen-year-old and we all know this. How many times have you commented on that, yourself? He wouldn't be who he is if he was a standard issue teenager—it's part of what makes him so exceptional."

"I should have known."

"_Bruce_ should have known. And if he knew, he should have done something before this."

* * *

"Thank you for coming in this morning, Dick, please take a seat."

"You sent a note getting me out of math class; I assume this is about me and Miss Posner, right?"

The school psychologist shifted in his chair. "Well, it is. You're an intelligent young man, surely you can see the problems with you and Miss Posner becoming such close friends."

Dick was doing his best to keep a lid on his temper about this—he was Robin, he was a professional and this jerk wasn't worth getting upset about. "As far as I know, there's no reason why two people can't be friends, Dr. McClure. I mean, it's not like we're sleeping together. Or are there some rules I've missed?"

"With all respect, Dick, I haven't said that you were sleeping with anyone."

"But you obviously think we were or I wouldn't be in here, right? I assume this came down from the principal and maybe the school board and you're all afraid that Bruce will sic his lawyers on you and the school will go under because of the huge judgement against you that you'll all afraid of. Your jobs are all on the line."

"You're in here because we're concerned about you, Dick."

"You barely know my name and until this morning you wouldn't have known me if you fell over me. Miss Posner and I are just friends; nothing else. We haven't done anything wrong."

The man drew a breath and looked out the window for a moment while he seemed to mentally recite a mantra of some kind, though he wasn't surprised the Grayson boy was denying everything and becoming defensive—he would have been more surprised if the kid had admitted an affair. "I realize that you're still a minor, but I rather doubt you're quite that naïve, Dick, and if you really don't see the situation for what it appears, then I'm sure that Miss Posner understands what lines have been crossed."

"I do understand the rules, but we didn't do anything we shouldn't have and Miss Posner made sure that nothing happened that would be misconstrued. I know—we both know what the laws are and neither of us wanted her to lose her job. Nothing happened."

The doctor maintained that detached calm all psychologists seem to have. "Several people have come forward and given statements that the two of you were seen in compromising situations." He seemed a little embarrassed about this. "You and Miss Posner were seen after a movie out in the parking lot; you were embracing and kissing. Evidently you were also seen in a local park, as well."

The man was right, it had been after the new Indiana Jones movie, and they'd had a good time and were laughing. It just kind of happened. "Fine, it happened a couple of times and it was just a couple of kisses and stuff. 'No big deal and it was my fault, I swear. She stopped me—stopped us and it never went any further."

"Dick, this isn't an inquisition and I'm not trying to put you on the spot. I just need to know if you understand all the ramifications of something like this—of a teacher becoming involved with one of her students, especially one who's still a minor."

"I read the papers, I know what can happen to teachers who get involved with students."

"But do you also understand what can happen to the students involved, Dick?"

"I'll be fine; it isn't like I've never dealt with things, you know."

The man needed to try to find out who initiated this and just how far it really had gone. He wasn't so much concerned about the legal side of things, though they couldn't be ignored; he was worried about the Grayson boy and how this could affect him emotionally. The kid had been through serious trauma in his life. He'd endured his parent's deaths and evident loss of his blood family, the move from a hand to mouth performing and traveling existence to a life of great privilege and now this.

Dr. McClure was also worried about what effect the media frenzy—which was almost inevitable could do to him in the long term. This could have serious repercussions on the boy if it wasn't addressed and dealt with quickly. He'd be dragged through the courts, the newspapers and the evening news, plus once it hit the Internet—which it would—there'd be no containing the story. Bruce Wayne had sheltered the kid as much as was possible when his parent's killers were brought to trial, but something like this, well, it would be like being in the middle of a firestorm.

If that happened, then protecting Dick wouldn't be an option. That was what McClure was worried about, even if Dick thought it either wouldn't happen or that he could handle it.

"Dick, I'm not trying to intrude on your privacy but I need to know so I can gauge where we're going with this: if you'd be willing to tell me, what are your feelings for Miss Posner?"

Jesus, like he was going to talk about this with a school shrink. "We're friends."

"Yes, I understand that, but what are your feelings concerning her? Are you in love with her? Do you believe she loves you?"

The boy gave a half shrug as an answer. It was all the answer the doctor needed; it was serious between the two.

* * *

_Dear Dick,_

_You have to know that this is the last thing in the world I wanted, but I'm convinced that the best thing for both of us is to stay away from one another for a while. I think at least until you're of age, certainly and maybe longer so that we have a time to put things in perspective of some kind._

_As I'm sure you've heard by now, I gave in my resignation, effective immediately. I've given up my half of the carriage house and I've asked that my mail be forwarded to me, but please don't try to find out where I am for now. I know you and suspect that you may try, but for my sake, I'm asking you not to._

_In time, when I've been able to think about this and start to move on I'll contact you._

_You have to know how much you've come to mean to me and how much I'd come to depend on you and our being together. However even while it was happening, we both knew that we were playing with fire and that it was premature, if not an outright mistake._

_Know that I doubt if a day will go by without my thinking about you or that I won't be hoping the best for you ad that you fulfill your incredible potential—I've truly never met anyone like you and know I never will meet anyone as incredible again._

_I believe that if things had been just a little different, that we may have had a possibility of a real future together, but the timing was simply wrong and that's something that we'll have to live with and accept, at least for now._

_Be well, think of me occasionally and know that I will miss you desperately._

_Carolyn_

* * *

_Dear Carolyn,_

_I know you were forced to resign and I also know that Bruce had a lot to do with threatening the school and the board to make sure that it happened. He said that he wouldn't if I promised to not see you anymore, but he said later that he couldn't allow the possibility of us being together to happen._

_You know what our friendship meant to me these last few months and you also know that it won't be all that long before I'm of age and we can do whatever we want._

_I don't know what will happen any more than you do but when I'm no longer a minor, when it's not quite the scandal we are now, I'll find you and we'll see._

_In a few years, we'll see._

_Dick_

* * *

"Dick, I was hoping if you'd be here."

"Hi Clark, you're looking for me?" Like he needed more than one guess to figure out why. Dick was sitting on one of the chaises by the outdoor pool at the Manor. It was early spring, much too cold for swimming, but he thought he'd be left alone out here. Evidently he was wrong.

Clark, and he was dressed as Clark Kent at the moment in khakis and a button down shirt, sat on another chaise beside the boy. "Happy Birthday."

"It was two weeks ago, but thanks."

Clark nodded, "I know, I would have come by but I was off-world for a while, 'just got back last night, in fact. I thought that you might like this." He handed Dick a small package, maybe the size of a cigar box. "Go ahead, open it."

He pulled the ribbon off and opened the lid, inside was a small metal thing maybe the size of a cell phone. It looked a little like a weird Game-boy, a small device of some kind with a viewing screen. "It's a viewer, you can program anyone into it and keep track of them. It doesn't receive pictures unless the other person also has one of these, but you can use it as sort of a phone and a locator; it can establish an audio link with almost anyone you want."

"Thank you." He saw that Titans were all listed on the auto-dial or whatever it was called and that the tenth entry was C. Posner. Of course. Clark knew as much about everything as Bruce did.

"How are you doing?"

"Not so great. Did you know they took her out of school during third period in handcuffs?" Clark shook his head. "She's in jail waiting for the trial, it's scheduled to start in about a month. I'm being home schooled for a while."

"That's probably a good idea."

"Yeah, I guess."

"But I thought Bruce said he wouldn't press charges." Clark was the one who convinced Bruce that it would be too painful and damaging to Dick to do so.

"Yeah, so did I."

"He's worried about you, you know that's his only motivation."

"I guess." But Dick wondered how much that concern revolved around jealousy that he had found something Bruce had declined for himself.

* * *

A spring day, sunny and with a slight breeze. The flowers were starting and the first crocuses and daffodils were blooming. Winter was over and the parks were magnets for anyone with an ounce of blood in their veins.

He saw her before she saw him, sitting on the bench they'd agreed on and with an unread book on her lap. Her face was the same, her hair longer and blonder. She was wearing a light dress and looked like she'd lost some weight, now fashionably thin while she had been just slim a few years ago.

"Hello, Carolyn."

She turned, expecting him and took a moment to appraise him as he just had her. She smiled and stood to greet him, her arms around him and a warm kiss on his cheek. "You're even more beautiful that you used to be and your eyes are still as blue as I remember."

They strolled the paths, not quite touching but close beside one another, catching up with small talk. "I heard that you're a cop in Bludhaven, I'm terrified for you."

"It's not that bad." In fact, it was worse, but he wasn't going to tell her that. "Are you still teaching?"

"No, I'm a researcher for Newsweek. Steady hours and not as much office politics. 'No fighting for tenure. Where did you end up going to college?"

"Hudson for a semester. I didn't like it. Then I kind of drifted around for a while. I like being a cop, though."

"How does Bruce feel about it?"

"He worries, but doesn't say much. Are you married"

"No. You?"

"No. I was engaged but it didn't work out. I seem to have trouble keeping girlfriends."

"You just haven't found the right one yet. You will."

"So will you—find a boyfriend, I mean."

"One of these days. It's not a priority."

They stopped for some ice cream, Dick's treat. "Are you happy, Carolyn?"

She nodded. "Are you?"

"I like what I'm doing, it's important and I feel like I'm accomplishing something. I thin Bruce is a little disappointed, but he keeps it to himself."

They walked on, still strolling and chatting. "How bad was it for you after you were forced to leave?"

"Bad. I couldn't get a teaching job; they didn't give me a recommendation. I waitressed for a while to pay the bills but I didn't tell anyone why I'd changed jobs. It was hard—none of my friends knew, they still don't. It's better now, though. I like my job and I have an okay life." They found a big rock overlooking the pond and sat in the shade. "What about you, how was school after I left?"

"Okay, I never was all that involved with the place. I always had outside friends and so it was just marking time for a year or so until I graduated. No one really bothered me, I don't think anyone cared all that much."

"Good. I was worried about you."

He smiled and gave her a half laugh. "I worried about you, too." He finished his ice cream. "It wouldn't have worked, would it?"

"Between us? No. Maybe for a while, but no, not in the long run."

"But you're okay, Carolyn? I mean, really?"

"I am—and so are you from the looks of you. I don't think a single woman we've passed has managed to not stare at you. You've become quite the hunk, you know." He laughed as he blushed. "You never knew how terrific you were, did you, Dick? There was a reason I was attracted to you, you know."

"Yeah well there was a reason why it was mutual. You know, if we'd met now I think…"

"But we didn't."

"Carolyn, we could give it another shot and this time we could…"

"We had our chance. It's passed."

"I'd like to try. I mean, if you're willing." He leaned in to kiss her but she pulled away.

"Too much time has gone by. No, it's not going to happen now, Dick, I've moved past it, even if you haven't."

"Carolyn, c'mon, that's silly. We can't know if we don't give it a chance. We had something then, we don't know that it's gone."

"I do." She got up a little too fast, seeming to be a little too anxious to get away. "I have to get back to work, this is my lunch hour."

"Meet me after. Please. Let's at least try."

"No."

"But…"

"No. I missed you for years and you may think there's still some feeling, but there isn't for me, not anymore, just some nostalgia and I'm not interested in that kind of thing." She looked at her watch. "I really have to go, I'm late." She kissed him again, a real kiss that went on to long for simple nostalgia but then abruptly turned and left.

Dick watcher her go, knowing a decision had been made and that it wouldn't be changed. He'd been looking forward to this for five years; fanaticized about it, thought and rethought where he'd take her for their first dinner together, where they'd live, how it would be.

He'd known almost as soon as they'd started talking that it was a non-starter and he knew why, just as he thought it may happen. Taking his cell phone from his pocket, he hit number one of the speed dial. "Bruce? I'm in Gotham, close to Wayne Corp. I'll be over in a few minutes…I don't care, cancel it. I have a few things I want to say to you."

9


End file.
